


Stuck Home Stories from Homestuck school (but not really)

by Toki_Blade



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Crossover, Elementary School, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-08
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 22:36:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/753867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toki_Blade/pseuds/Toki_Blade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There'd been a terrible mistake. Homestuck School was accidentally build sideways. It was supposed to be built one story tall with twenty classrooms all in a row. Instead it was built twenty stories high with one classroom on each story. (The builder said they could just deal with it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mr. Noir

**Author's Note:**

> This was spurred once late at night. I'm not actually sure where the idea came from. Sort of a mix with Sideways Stories from Wayside School if you didn't get that.  
> I guess there's kind of violence in this first chapter? So, warning? But it doesn't really say outright.  
> Anyways, here you go I guess.
> 
> ~toki

Mr. Noir had ash black skin and an angry face. He was the angriest teacher in Homestuck School.

“If you kids are annoying,” he warned, “or if you bother me, I’ll stab you.” Mr. Noir didn’t like children.

The stupid kid was the worst.

Stupid kid was annoying. He was the most annoying kid in class.

Stupid kid liked pranks. And there was nothing, Mr. Noir thought, more annoying then pranks.

Once, stupid kid had placed a bucket of water on the door, trying to catch Mr. Noir off his guard. He'd overlooked one vital thing though: Mr. Noir is never off his guard.

The shouty kid got the short end of that stick.

Another time he placed a tac on Mr. Noir’s chair.

Mr. Noir hadn't even noticed.

All in all, the stupid kid was a shoe-in to get stabbed any day now.

And that day was today.

Or at least it would have been if the shouty kid hadn't gotten involved.

The day had started fairly normal. The kids sat quietly in their desks, Mr. Noir stormed into the classroom, told the children to get out their workbooks and start working on page 12 and had then proceeded to his seat where he would usually spend the rest of the day.

Usually.

About thirty minutes into class there was a knock at the classroom door.

As Mr. Noir got up to answer it, it swung open and Bro, the yard teacher, stepped in.

“Hey,” he said. And doused Mr. Noir with a smelly grey liquid with a water gun. He was gone before Mr. Noir could even open his mouth.

And then there was something annoying biting at his leg. He glanced down only to see that it was a small, black dog.

The stupid kid was laughing.

Mr. Noir bent down to pick up the annoyance and it nipped at his fingers.

The rest of the class was giving tentative giggles here and there.

He swiped the dog up and yanked at it’s collar to shut it up. He glanced at the tags.

“Which one of you is ‘Vantas’?” He asked.

The shouty kid, whose face had been one akin to horrified, stood up.

“Sir.” he squeaked out, “sir, I don’t know how my dog even got here.”

The stupid kid fell out of his chair.

Mr. Noir motioned for the shouty kid to come forward. He did, slowly, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of the stupid bitty dog the entire time.

“Sir,” he said, eyes wide, “sir, I am _so sorry_ I had _no idea_.” His mouth was gaping open as he stared at the dog flail around on it’s back in his teacher’s hand.

Mr. Noir started the kid down. “You know the rules kid.” He said, and thrust the dog over.

The shouty kid nodded shakily, “Yeah.”

Mr. Noir returned to his desk to retrieve the item of choice.

The shouty kid took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. He stared Mr. Noir in the eyes and nodded.

He took it like a man. Mr. Noir had never been so proud of a snot nosed brat before in his entire life.

It was quick and swift, and the metal was sterilized and he didn’t even hit any organs.

To this day Mr. Noir isn’t quite sure why he was fired and had his teaching licence revoked.


	2. Mr. Hussie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow days are the best. Ever.
> 
> ~toki

Mr. Hussie had a terribly odd face. In fact, he didn’t really have much of a face at all.

He looked up at Homestuck school. He had been informed by the yard teacher, a one Mr. Strider, that he was teaching on the twentieth story.

The top story.

Apparently the last teacher had quit in a fit of rage. Or maybe he'd been fired? Mr. Hussie didn’t really know. All he knew, was that it was a job, and it was willing to pay the bills. That was all he cared about.

Mr. Hussie trudged up the long flight of stairs. He wasn’t actually particularly fond of children. Especially stupid, ugly children. But all children were stupid and ugly, so he didn’t really have place to complain. It wasn’t their fault they were demented little bald monkeys.

Mr. Hussie opened the door to his new classroom and made a strangled noise in the back of his throat.

At least monkeys were cute.

“I can’t believe it,” said Mr. Hussie, “A room full of trolls.”

The children looked around, they didn’t see any trolls.

“This is stupid.” said Mr. Hussie, “Just plain stupid, I walked up twenty flights of stairs, _twenty_ , all to find a class full of trolls. What do they think I am? A lusus? I better at least get a raise for watching over trolls.”

The children stared at their new teacher. They didn’t know what to say. This teacher seemed to be just as bad, if not worse, than their old teacher, and they didn’t want to set him off.

Mr. Hussie rolled his eyes, “Sorry if I offended you or anything, it’s not like I have anything against trolls, I was just expecting, well, you know, _kids_.”

Sollux raised his hand.

“Yeah? The weird troll with the retro 3D glasses.” called Mr. Hussie.

“What are you talking about?” asked Sollux.

“What do you mean?” asked Mr. Hussie, “I was hoping you’d at least be _smart_ trolls. 3D glasses are those things they use at those stupid movies that are _supposed_ to be 3D, but no one can really tell.”

Feferi raised her hand.

“Yes? Goggles troll girl?”

“I think Sollux was trying to ask why you kept calling us trolls.” she said.

Mr. Hussie rolled his eyes.

“Well you’re not children,” he explained, “you’re too ugly to be children. You must be trolls.”

“What’s a ‘troll’?” asked John.

Mr. Hussie waved him off, “Nothing you need to worry about. You’re not a troll.”

Nepeta raised her hand, Mr. Hussie called on her, “How do you tell if someowone is a troll or not?”

“Well you’re a troll, obviously.” said Mr. Hussie, then he pointed out John, Jade, Dave and Rose, “Those four aren’t. They’re too ugly to be trolls, so they _must_ be children. It’s very cycle logic.”

“We’re not trolls!” shouted Karkat from the back.

“Thank you angry troll in the back,” said Mr. Hussie, “for raising your hand.”

Mr. Hussie grabbed a piece of chalk and wrote the word ‘DISCIPLINE’ on the board. “As long as I have to deal with trolls, I still might as well teach you something useful in life. Rule number one, if you get your name written, circled, and checked I’m sending you home on the kindergarten bus.” Mr. Hussie wasn’t actually sure if he could do that or not, but it wasn’t going to stop him from trying.

He wrote ‘angry troll’ under the word DISCIPLINE.

“How do you get your name on the board?” asked John.

“By breaking the rules,” answered Mr. Hussie. “Rule number two, no asking stupid questions.”

“What counts as a stupid question?” asked Eridan.

Mr. Hussie wrote ‘hipster troll’ under the word DISCIPLINE on the board. “That does.” He answered.

“Rule number three, don’t question my authority, rule number four, my word is law.”

Terezi raised her hand, Mr. Hussie called on her.

“Do you have a list of amendments that I can use to reinforce?” Terezi was the class Legislacerator.

Mr. Hussie wrote ‘blind troll’ on the blackboard under the word DISCIPLINE.

“Rule number five, I can break the fourth wall with no repercussions, and no questions asked.”

“What’s the ‘forth wall’?” asked Vriska. “Is it half of an ‘eighth wall’?”

Mr. Hussie wrote ‘eyepatch chick troll’ under the word DISCIPLINE.

Mr. Hussie went through the rest of his rule and by the time he was done, there were sixteen ‘names’ up on the blackboard.

“Anymore questions?” he asked.

The children remained silent.

“Good.” said Mr. Hussie, “Then let’s start class.”

 


	3. John

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whooo! Happy Homestuck Day! We've made it another year! We're still alive! Mostly!
> 
> I am wearing aviators that my moirail gave me for my Birthday (yes I gave her a rabbit on hers). She is apparently wearing her Vriska shirt. Because life it awesome. (I keep hopeing it I keep telling myself that, it'll come true.)
> 
> Anyways, enjoy.
> 
> ~toki

John had brown hair, and a large goofy grin. John had the largest smile in Mr. Hussie’s class.

John also liked pranks.

He was the prank master, it was him. No one had a bigger pranking gambit then John did. Except maybe John’s dead grandmother.

John’s favorite type of pranks were the ones of the classic variety. Whoopee cushions, tacks, electrified fake gum.

John had even rigged a bucket full of water on top of the partially open classroom door once. Karkat had been the unlucky victim to open the door.

He hadn’t talked to John for weeks after. And when he did the conversation had started with him giving John a black eye.

Another time he had released nineteen yellow salamanders in the school one for each floor. He labeled them one to twenty, leaving out number thirteen. By the end of the day, John had been sent home early on the kindergartener bus, and they had found nineteen salamanders. They couldn’t find number thirteen though, because there was no thirteenth salamander.

John liked to joke that it was lost on the thirteenth story.

The prank John had in mind for today though, was priceless. It was foolproof, there was no way it could go wrong.

John sat straight in his desk, his leg bouncing impatiently.

7:58.

He squirmed, John had never before in his life been this excited for school to start.

7:59.

What was taking so long!?

The clock hit 8:00 and the door slammed open and Mr. Hussie walked in.

He went over to his desk and sat his stuff down. He removed his coat and placed it on the back of his chair.

Hurry up, hurry up!

He stalked to the center of the front of the room and turned to face them. He stared them down for many moments before tilting his chin up ever so slightly.

“Today, class,” said Mr. Hussie, “We will be learning about Olive Garden Etiquette.” Mr. Hussie turned to the board, “Pay attention, first we-” he stopped and stared down at his hand, he swiped at the lip of the black board. “Hmm. Has anyone see the chalk?” he asked.

John covered his mouth and tried not to laugh.

Dave gave him a silent high-five from across the aisle.

Mr. Hussie scanned the floor and looked around his desk. “Now where could it have gone?” he asked.

He continued to search his desk.

John coughed loudly, Mr. Hussie glanced over at him, “Um, sir, isn’t there more in the supply closet?”

Mr. Hussie nodded, “Indeed there is. Karkat, would you grab a box of chalk from the supply closet for me?”

John’s face paled.

Karkat glared.

“Why do I have to do it? What am I, your slave? You’re just gonna tell me what to do and give me orders like I have no free will of my own? You think you own us!? You think you know every little thing about us, don’t you! You think you know our lives, our choices, our _ideas_! You think you have the right!? What gives you the right!? Who do you think you are!? God!?” Karkat’s speech ended with him standing and glaring down Mr. Hussie, breathing heavily.

Mr. Hussie nodded, “Yeah, that sounds about right, now go do it.”

Karkat grumbled, “Why can’t _John_ just do it? It was his idea in the first place.”

“Because I told you to,” Mr. Hussie said, “Now just do it, you could be done already.”

Karkat huffed but made his way back to the supply closet, glaring at John, who avoided his gaze like the plague, all the way.

He opened the doors. “Now where is this-” The class erupted in laughter as Karkat was knocked over by about twenty dead frogs.

 


	4. Jade

Jade was the nicest girl in Mr. Hussie’s class, but Jade had a problem.

No matter how interesting Mr. Hussie's lesson might be (and they were _all_ interesting) she just couldn’t stay awake!

“I just don’t know what to do!” She told her friend Feferi, “I want to stay awake, but I just can’t!”

“Maybe you should go to sleep earlier at night,” Feferi said.

“But I do!” exclaimed Jade, “I go to bed every night at seven, and wake up at seven in the morning! I get twelve whole hours of sleep! But I still fall asleep at school! There must be something wrong with me.”

Feferi didn’t like seeing Jade so upset, Jade was always so happy! And Feferi didn’t like her friends being sad.

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” she told Jade, “why don’t we ask Mr. Hussie and see if he has an answer?”

The girls went to the front of the room where Mr. Hussie’s desk was. He was on his computer.

“Mr. Hussie?” asked Feferi. “We have a question.”

Mr. Hussie waved a hand at them.

“Well,” started Jade, “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but I sleep in class a lot... and It’s not because you’re boring! I just get so tired!”

“Yeah,” said Mr. Hussie, “and you’re my favorite student for it.”

Jade was confused. How could she be his favorite student if she slept all the time? “I’m sorry Mr. Hussie, but I don’t think I understand.”

Mr. Hussie sighed, “Listen, you’re my favorite student because you never talk in class and you never question me. That angry kid though? He’s always questioning my authority.”

“Karkat?” Asked Jade, “Well, that’s just because he likes leading things.”

Mr. Hussie waved a hand at her, “Yeah, well, bottom line is you’re my favorite. End of story. Good bye.”

He turned around.

Well then.

Jade and Feferi returned to their seats, “I don’t understand!’ exclaimed Jade. “Why would he want me to sleep in class!?”

Feferi didn’t know either.

“I still don’t like sleeping in class,” said Jade, “It feels wrong!”

“I... I think I have an idea,” said Feferi, “but I don’t know if you’ll like it.”

At this point Jade was willing to try anything.

Feferi explained her idea to Jade, and she was right; Jade didn’t like it, but she didn’t see any other options.

“I’ll do it.” She said with a nod of her head.

So that day, during recess, the two girls approached Gamzee.

“Gamzee.” Feferi called out to the boy.

Gamzee looked up, face as caked with paint as always. “What is up my little fishsis?”

Feferi steeled herself, “Jade would like to make use of your... facilities.”

Gamzee’s eye lit up. “Wolfsis wants to get her nap on in my horn pile?”

“Um, yes please.” Said Jade.

“That’s cool. That’s real cool. You sisters know the price right?” asked Gamzee.

Jade handed over a bottle of glue.

“Cool sister.” Gamzee smiled and stepped aside, the girls shivered, “enjoy your nap.”

After recess Feferi came to retrieve Jade.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Oh fine,” said Jade.

“So you don’t think you’ll sleep in class anymore?”

“Oh, I don’t think I’ll have to sleep ever again,” replied Jade.

 


	5. Dave

Dave had pale blonde hair, and the raddest pair of shades ever to be worn by an elementary school student.

Dave was the coolest kid in Mr. Hussie’s class. And everybody knew it.

Dave was too cool to rush down the stairs with the other children when the bell for morning recess or for lunch rang. The bell would ring and everybody would race down the stairs. Some of them (Vriska) pushing other students out of their way to try and get down first.

Which was nearly impossible because Mr. Hussie’s class was on the twentieth floor. Terezi was always first, though; she got to leave class five minutes earlier than the rest of the students.

Dave was always last.

He’d cooly stand up when the bell rang, and nonchalantly make his way down the stairs.

Dave was _always_  last.

So, by the time he made his way over to the yard teacher, who everyone just called Bro, (possibly with affection, or possibly because they didn’t know his real name) who actually _was_ Dave’s bro, all of the balls were gone.

Well, actually that wasn’t true.

Dave knew for a _fact_ that there were still some balls in the large equipment bin that Bro brought out every recess. Bro never gave Dave a ball though. Always insisted that there were none left and offering him a smuppet instead. Bro was always trying to get the kids to take his smuppets. Especially Dave.

Today was no different. The bell rang and all the kids ran down the stairs. Dave walked coolly down the stairs with his hands in his pockets.

He reached the playground and made his way over to Bro.

“Hey, Bro.” He called.

His brother glanced over at him (though it really hard to tell with his rad shades) “Sup, little man?”

Dave steeled himself. “I want a red ball, Bro.”

Bro intook a quick breath through his teeth and tutted, “Sorry, kiddo, there aren’t any red balls.” Dave scowled, “How ‘bout a nice, plush smu-”

“How about a blue ball?” Dave asked quickly.

Bro shook his head. “Nah. All out of them, too. But like I said. I’ve got this nice little-”

“Green?” Dave asked, “How about any green balls.”

“Nope. No green. Just this lone little smuppet that needs some lovin’, Dave. Don’t you want to-”

This time, when Bro was interrupted, it wasn’t Dave who spoke.

“Mr. Bro!” John called, running over towards the two blonds, “My ball popped!”

Dave wasn’t sure how John ever popped any of the balls. The rubber was harder than Mr. Noir’s glare.

“Aw, I’m sorry little buddy.” Bro said, digging in the equipment basket. “Here, have a red ball.” He tossed the ball over and John caught it with a ‘thanks’ and ran off.

Dave glared at his brother. “You said you didn’t have any red balls left.”

Bro shrugged, “Well, now I don’t.”

Dave rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll just go play with John.” He turned to leave but Bro caught his arm.

“No. Dave. Wait. Just take the Smuppet.”

“No! I don’t want your stupid puppet!”

“Smuppet, Dave. Smuppet.”

“I don’t care!”

Dave wiggled out of his brother’s grasp and ran over to where John was trying to teach Karkat how to play basket ball, leaving his brother standing alone, staring at the smuppet forlornly.

Dave still didn’t get his own ball. But he _did_ get to see John give Karkat a bloody nose.

By accident, of course.


End file.
